


Everything breaks

by SerenaDusk



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls (Gravity Falls), Bad Ending, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Character Death, M/M, Manipulation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24471325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenaDusk/pseuds/SerenaDusk
Summary: Fiddleford finds himself thinking about a blue demon more often than is normal. Against his better judgement he acts on his feelings, even finding it answered. But his boss isn't one to share his personal slave with anyone and both of them will pay the price
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Everything breaks

**Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time**

Fiddleford was searching through the forms on his desk, stressed and angry. He found his notebook under a stack of finished files and opened it on the list of orders he had made in the past months. His finger went past the lines of products, searching for specific ingredients that together formed the custom drug he used on that stupid blue creature to get it sedated and quiet. He froze as he saw that there was less and less time between each order. That couldn’t be right. He muttered a curse and switched to the pages where his schedule was. Perhaps the frequency of testing had gone up, explaining why he would need more of it? William tended to lash out when it got too much for him. But no, testing days and times had remained the same since the very beginning. It had been a few years, why did the frequency go up? Stanford wouldn’t be happy if it turned out Fiddleford had been wasting that substance. Some of those ingredients were extremely illegal and risky to get, so ordering more of it more often wouldn’t put the sorcerer in a good mood.

The scientist thought back. He used the last of the stuff yesterday, when did he put the demon to sleep? Right after the demon started fighting probably. But he didn’t remember a fight. All he remembered was the demon asleep on his lab table and a strange reluctance to continue the scheduled procedures. It had not even been anything all too heavy either. Why had he used the drug then? It took Fiddleford a moment, but then he realized, to his own horror, that he had used it to spare the demon. Literally, he had actively done something to make sure William Cipher would not be in pain. But why? That stupid blue creature had screwed up everything good about the manor from the very beginning. He deserved every bit of hell that the scientist could come up with. So why would he do anything to lessen that punishment? He buried his face in his hands and an image of the demon came up in his head, crystal clear, almost like a film. When nothing was scheduled, he only saw Will if he came to tell Fiddleford that Stanford wanted something from him, or to deliver a package or mail.

Right now, he found himself thinking back to the last time Will had brought him a package. He remembered the soft voice, the timid smile and shy way of moving. Wait, what? He diverted his attention to the last time he did hear the demon scream, on his lab table. The softness of Will’s hair when he gripped it to hold his head still, the tremble in his hand. Okay, stop. What the hell was wrong with him? The demon had taken everything from Fiddleford, and he should be resenting the creature with every fibre of his body. And yet, they both lived under the reign of Stanford Gleeful. They both knew the consequences of screwing up. And they both knew how hard it was to live up to the expectations of their master. They knew the other side of the glamor life that came with a house like this. Fiddleford tried to stop himself, return his focus to what he actually understood, the science. The experiments he got to do in this well-equipped lab. Stanford was the one who took care of his comfort, not William. Right? Of course, the demon was the one to prepare food, to bring his mail, most likely the one who maintained the entire manor. Stanford usually just needed something from him.

A knock on the door interrupted his very confusing train of thoughts. “It is open.” Fiddleford spoke up out of habit. He didn’t really want to see anyone right now. Especially not Will. But luck was never on his side and the demon entered the lab, readjusting his eyepatch. The scientist felt the tiniest hint of guilt over that incident and it made him furious. He got up and glared, causing the demon to immediately cringe. “What the hell do you want this time, Cipher?” He spat and Will sighed. “I only came to tell you master Stanford expects you in his office right away. There is no need to be hostile towards me, I didn’t do anything.” It didn’t happen all that often, but sometimes Fiddleford caught anger in the kind-hearted, stupid excuse of a demon. He paced over and Will backed away, probably regretting the anger already. The demon tried to turn, leave the lab, be somewhere other than the place where he suffered so often. The scientist’s arm shot forwards and his fingers locked around Blue’s wrist. “Don’t run away, coward. You’re a demon, not a bloody pixie.” He forcefully turned Will around again, his grey eyes piercing into Will’s singular blue one. The demon seemed confused but Fiddleford didn’t care. “Do you have any idea what you have cost me so far, and what you are going to cost me in the future? Do you know how often I have faced the anger of Stanford because something went wrong that involved you?” Fiddleford was throwing it all out, the built-up anger, resentment, and emotions he had been holding in for god knows how long. With every word he got more in Will’s face. As for the demon, he seemed frozen, but there was a bit of genuine empathy visible in his expression. Of course, the demon would know. It wasn’t like the scientist was the only one who paid for wrongdoings.

When he was done, Fiddleford let go of Will’s wrist. Blue rubbed over the spot where the scientist’s thumb had left a bruise. He hesitated but set a hand on the shoulder of the man. “I’m sorry.” He spoke and the innocent, genuine apology pushed Fiddleford over the edge. It was only a centimetre forward. Will seemed to expect it, or at least he didn’t protest when the other closed the space. They locked lips and for the first time in years, he felt a genuine response. He felt the difference between this and what he had been used to for the past years. It almost made him cry.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway quickly put an end to this display. Both of them seemed to return to reality at the same time and they hastily let go. Will took a step back, and right on time too. The sorcerer walked around the corner. To him it would mostly look very strange; his two assistants very bewildered, maybe even slightly dazed. All in all, they both seemed pretty out of it and Fiddleford saw that cold look appear in those brown eyes. That look the man always got when he saw something that he didn’t like. “Is there anything in particular that is keeping either of you from fulfilling my requests?” Will visibly flinched when he heard the barely concealed rage in that voice. “No master Stanford. I am very sorry. It won’t happen again.” He spoke up, his voice higher than normal. Fiddleford looked away. Blue was a terrible liar and they would both face the repercussions; he could feel it. The scientist couldn’t meet Stanford’s gaze, he knew that as soon as he did, it would be over. And yet, not meeting said gaze had the same effect. “If either of you continues to lie to me for one more second, I can assure you that I will make known once more that I do not like being lied to.” Stanford’s voice had an icy calmness that immediately triggered Fiddleford’s survival instincts.

“It was _not_ my fault. That thing continues to interrupt me.” He sputtered, backing away from both others. “I don’t know what kind of mind trick Cipher has been using, but it nearly pushed me over the edge.” He was close to panicking, and apparently Will was too, because he heard a squeak. He glanced over and saw that a hand had firmly locked around Blue’s upper arm. Stanford’s grip was unforgiving and could be incredibly painful if the man was angry enough. And right now? The sorcerer was furious. “Did he now?” Stanford’s voice was softer now, but that only made it worse. “I will see to it that he won’t try that again. Get to my office at once, Fiddleford. I will return there in a few minutes.” The sorcerer then left, taking the demon with him, in the direction a part of the manor that was hardly ever used. Fiddleford wasn’t even sure if he knew every room there. He couldn’t afford to go look, especially not right now. He just hastily went to the office, trying not to think about what just happened, what he’d done.

Stanford did return in just a few minutes, alone. The scientist didn’t dare ask what happened to Blue, he was much too scared. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel guilty again. He had initiated this and now it was the demon who paid the price? Did not seem fair to him. He managed to keep it out of his head while Stanford explained why he had called the scientist in the first place, but Fiddleford could not focus. All that was on his mind was the incident from earlier and he only managed to listen to Stanford enough to know what he was supposed to do for the next few weeks. Apparently, he would be busy working on setting something up for an associate or something? All he knew that it would be a lot of chemistry, so he could probably order the ingredients without it being strange. “Oh, and Fiddleford?” That sentence made the scientist look up. “Testing days are over for the time being. You clearly are too susceptible towards his abilities.” The sorcerer dismissed Fiddleford with those words and the scientist returned to the lab right away, folding his arms on his desk and resting his head on it. He knew he messed up, he knew he should have confessed, but he was just so scared what Stanford would do to him if he found out what really happened, why it happened.

For the next week he would only leave his lab when it was absolutely necessary. Stanford insisted the scientist joined him during mealtime, and the sorcerer seemed to take care of the food himself, leaving the other to wonder silently what had happened to the servant. Where was William? What had Stanford done to him in response to the incident? Fiddleford was scared to ask but found himself thinking about the demon a lot. He had checked Will’s bedroom, but had found it not only empty, but cold too. Nobody had been there for days, so it seemed. So that meant that Blue was probably in that part of the manor nobody usually entered. He wouldn’t know what to find there, but he had to know, he had to at least make sure that Will wasn’t harmed because of this. No, he had to apologize for causing this in the first place. But it would be so dangerous; if Stanford would find out, he would face the same fate, if not worse.

But in the end, Fiddleford could not help himself. Was it a sick obsession, a desperate need to get rid of the guilt consuming him or genuine feelings for the being? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps a bit of all. Either way, he hid behind a pillar when he saw Stanford leave for that usually vacant wing. He hesitated but slipped through the gap before the door closed and immediately hid again, watching the sorcerer enter a room. The scientist didn’t dare barge in there while the man was present but waited until he heard that familiar pattern of footsteps pass and leave through the door. Now was his chance, perhaps the only one he’d get. Fiddleford walked up to the door and tried if it was locked or magically sealed. It wasn’t, and as soon as he opened the door, it became clear why it wasn’t necessary.

The room was divided in half by a wall of bars that went over the entire length of the room and from the ceiling to the floor. There was no visible door, making clear that this was installed with the help of Stanford’s abilities. Will was sitting at the window, leaning his head against the wall, and staring outside. His wrists were held back by blue, glowing shackles, and chains, leading to a ring in the wall. A collar of the same material glimmered around the demon’s neck. If the being wanted, he could get up and move around a bit, perhaps _just_ reach the bars if he wanted, but he was just sitting there. He wasn’t bleeding, but he looked very tired and defeated. Clearly, he had been facing the wrath of his master. “Will?” Fiddleford hesitated, guilt overcoming him. Blue turned his head and while he initially looked shocked and terrified, a smile appeared on his face, lighting up his features. “Fiddleford, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” The demon got up, his chains rattling faintly. The scientist laughed without joy. “I find you in Stanford’s power-supressing chains and you ask me if I am okay? What about you?” He asked while the demon made his way to the bars. He got stopped from reaching out by the shackles, but if he tried, he could bend forward just enough.

But Will had things to say. “You shouldn’t be here, what if he comes back? He’s already furious.” Always worried, just like Fiddleford, but in a different fashion. Will was concerned about others, Fiddleford was mostly just worried about himself. “I’m sorry, alright? It’s my fault.” The scientist didn’t even know anymore. He didn’t know what was right, only that he felt so guilty about all of this. The demon had technically never done anything. He had even been kind to the man who cut out his eye. Fiddleford’s gaze went over the patch that covered up the empty socket and the scars. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. Will’s soft voice reached his ears. “It’s not your fault. I should have seen what all of this was doing to you. I should apologize.” The scientist’s eyes shot open and another joyless laugh escaped him. “You are completely ridiculous, you know that?” Then he reached out, through the bars and grabbed Blue by the front of his vest and pulled. Will nearly toppled over but he didn’t seem to care. Not right now. His lips found Fiddleford’s again. Neither of them knew what was going on anymore, they didn’t understand. All they knew was that they finally found someone who knew how it felt, what the other had been through. Was it solace? Was it simply both of them reaching their breaking point and searching for the last bit of comfort they could find?

Suddenly, Fiddleford felt himself yanked backwards. He supressed a scream, but someone else didn’t. Will screamed. He pulled at the chains holding him back, but everyone in the Manor knew there was no escaping them. He could only watch as the scientist was turned around and looked right into the eyes of Stanford Gleeful. And in those eyes he saw a level of rage he had not seen before. It wasn’t seen in the rest of his demeanour, but the yes gave it away: the sorcerer was absolutely furious. “I recall telling both of you not to lie to me, less than a week ago. I thought both of you would know better than to try to go behind my back. I know what is happening in my own house.” Stanford’s voice was cold as ice and Fiddleford felt an invisible force pushing him down, to his knees. A faint rattling of chains told him that Will was either shaking or still trying to get free. The scientist didn’t know, he couldn’t look. The fear in him was rising to the point he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. But no, he actually couldn’t breathe. His hands shot up towards his throat, to pull away what was closing off his windpipe, but they found nothing. He forced himself to look up and as expected, Stanford’s arm was raised and his hand was closing slowly, crushing Fiddleford’s windpipe. Will knew what was going on and apparently couldn’t stop himself. “No! Stop, please.” The demon begged, pulling at his restraints again, his voice full of desperation.

To his surprise, the scientist felt the force disappear almost immediately and he found himself gasping for air. Stanford turned towards Will and made another gesture. The chains and bars vanished in thin air, leaving Blue free to go to Fiddleford. But he didn’t. He froze. The scientist turned his head to look at him, right in time to see a shiver go through Will. Stanford didn’t take his eyes off the demon, but motioned for Fiddleford to get up and follow him. The scientist was filled with dread, but did as he was ordered. Will did too, with puppet-like movements. Stanford had increased his control over the demon probably. He didn’t know, he couldn’t think. He was just a ball of fear at this point and couldn’t even muster up a sense of relief when Stanford brought them to the lab. It should have been his safe space, but now he almost felt panicky when he walked into the familiar, equipment-filled space he spent most of his days in. The sorcerer had cleared an open space where the lab table used to be. Will mindlessly walked to the middle of that space and dropped to his knees. A snap of fingers and new chains pulled the demons hands away from him, over his head.

Stanford turned towards Fiddleford and the smile he saw on the face of the sorcerer caused him to start trembling. “You have one chance to prove to me that William caused your temporary insanity. He is powerless now and will not be able to do it again, so there is nothing standing in between you and your chance to set it right. Prove to me you know who he belongs to and I will write it off to his abilities, his betrayal. And if you prove it to me, it will serve as his punishment as well.” Stanford pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his vest and handed it over to the terrified scientist. It only had three words: ‘Stanford Filbrick Gleeful’ in beautiful calligraphy he immediately recognized as coming from the demon himself. He looked over to Blue and saw that the upper half of his body was bared. “His chest will provide you with more than enough space to get the message across.” The sorcerer’s voice was dead calm and a pile of razor blades appeared in front of the restrained slave. Fiddleford understood what was asked of him, but how could he do it? Not again, not for this. It had been his fault, his conscious decision to go to Will. But he didn’t have the strength to refuse, or move, or run or do anything. The demon raised his head to look at the scientist. “Do it.” He breathed out. “Do it, or he will.” Stanford raised an eyebrow and picked up a syringe filled with a substance the scientist almost immediately recognized as a type of venom that affected the victim’s muscles, leaving them paralyzed for hours on end. He watched as the sorcerer walked over to the demon and set a hand under his chin. “You have no say in the matter, William. I am very disappointed in your behaviour. I separated you from him to give you a chance to put it out of your head and you went against me.” He whispered before injected the venom directly into Will’s bloodstream.

While William’s head dropped and his posture became more slumped, only held up by the chains that were threatening to break his wrists, Stanford turned towards Fiddleford again. “He was speaking out of turn, but he was not wrong. If you continue to stall I will take it as evidence that this came from you, and you both will know what it means to ignore my orders. I sincerely hope you make the wise decision, Fiddleford.” The sorcerer didn’t even try to hide the threat in his voice anymore and shock went through the scientist’s body. He stumbled forwards and kneeled down in front of William. ‘I’m sorry’ he mouthed and grabbed one of the blades. The demon couldn’t answer, he couldn’t even raise his head. But when Fiddleford reluctantly made the first cut, he heard a squeak. The paralysis didn’t come with numbness. Blue would feel every single move he would have to make to scratch that name into the skin.

And he had to retrace nearly every line more than once. If it wasn’t deep enough it would fade almost immediately, making the whole ordeal last even longer. Fiddleford clenched his jaw and refused to make a sound, but William whimpered while the blood streamed over his chest, making the blades slippery and staining the hands of the scientist a bright red. It all went so slow, because he knew that one line in the wrong place and he would feel it, and the blades kept snapping, because they simply weren’t made for this. Sweat was trickling down his neck and his nerves were about to give in. At some point he unexpectedly saw a clear drop fall on his hand; William was starting to cry, or at least had tears streaming down the cheek underneath his undamaged eye. The other was still dry; the tear duct had been damaged during the surgery. Fiddleford swallowed audibly and heard Stanford move behind him. One more letter, one more symbol and he would be done but the movement caught him off guard. The blade went wrong; too far to the right and Fiddleford’s breath halted. Will squeaked and Stanford set a hand on the shoulder of the scientist. “How unfortunate, so close to perfection, but unacceptable.” He raised his free hand and immediately the red letters disappeared, leaving Will’s chest bloody but undamaged. “I require flawless work, especially on this canvas. Start over and do not make a mistake.” Stanford’s voice was calm, but colder than the scientist had ever heard

Fiddleford dropped the blade and stumbled backwards, nearly falling flat on his back. He couldn’t. Not anymore. He was empty, completely drained and almost numb. But not numb for the pain in the demon. Every tear, every whimper went through him like a mental knife, leaving him feeling like he was the one being cut over and over again. “I can’t. I can’t do it.” He sputtered, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” The scientist repeated and almost started sobbing himself. He heard a thud and looked through his fingers. William had dropped to the ground; the chains were gone. “You failed me, Fiddleford.” It was all the sorcerer said before scooping up the demons in his arms and leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind him and Fiddleford’s first instinct told him to run, but when he tried, the door was locked and his key was gone. He was trapped.

The next ten minutes he searched for a way out, even going as far as trying his tools to break the lock. But nothing worked, magic was involved and the scientist couldn’t escape. When he heard the lock click again he stumbled backwards. Stanford’s figured filled the doorway, towering over him as Fiddleford was on his knees on the ground yet again. The sorcerer set a few steps into the room and placed a cup on the desk. “Drink.” He spoke. The scientist was confused, but Stanford was serious. He even handed the cup to Fiddleford after a minute. The man obeyed and drained the cup rather quickly. It was a cold, sweet beverage he didn’t know, but it didn’t taste bad. It was even refreshing. Almost as if the sorcerer forgave him or something? The scientist was still terrified, he expected the promised punishment, not a drink. Stanford gestured for him to sit down and did the same himself.

“You have done good work for me, Fiddleford. I will not deny that. But lately I found that your work is mostly extra.” The sorcerer pressed his fingertips together and glared at the still trembling scientist in front of him. “What do you mean?” He asked, almost inaudibly. “What I mean is that in the line of events, your presence here has become redundant to my plans. I do not need you in my house.” The sorcerer continued and Fiddleford felt something snap his chest, as if his heart was literally breaking. “You are firing me?” He asked, even softer, earning him a glare. “I am not firing you Fiddleford. You know too much about me.” There was an unspoken threat in his voice again. And the supressed a squeak. “The memory gun, I won’t say anything.” He begged. His throat was hurting, unshed tears maybe?

Stanford got up and circled the scientist once. “Too risky. You said it yourself, memories can be restored by exposure. I do not want anyone to take that chance.” He ended up behind Fiddleford, who was too scared to turn around. The burning sensation was spreading to his neck and arms. “What do you want me to do, Stanford? I will do anything.” He pleaded, only to feel two hands on his shoulders, pressing him into the backrest of his chair a little more. “There is nothing you can do, except wait.” It was the only answer. The burning got worse, it spread over his entire body and started to increase in intensity. “Please, don’t do this, I swear, I am not redundant.” Fiddleford’s voice became higher as his desperation grew. “It has been done, Fiddleford. There is no stopping it.” Stanford’s voice got softer and he leaned over to whisper in the scientist’s ear. “And even if you’re not redundant, you still are expendable. I do not need you.” Fiddleford let out a sob as he understood what was happening, when he had sealed his own fate. “I’m… sorry…” He whispered as he felt how the burning got worse in his chest. His heart was about to give in. “I’m… so… sorry.” Stanford grinned. Loyal, even with his dying breath. But then one more word that made him furious once more. “Will...”


End file.
